


stronger start

by paravin



Series: last to see the light [10]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Abuse, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:47:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29066055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paravin/pseuds/paravin
Summary: Saint-14 helps Crow adjust to life in the Tower.
Relationships: Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny), The Crow & Saint-14 (Destiny)
Series: last to see the light [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2180733
Comments: 21
Kudos: 88





	stronger start

**Author's Note:**

> kind of a loose follow-up/companion piece to [this Osiris+Crow one](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28898451) because I love Saint
> 
> just as an aside, thank you to everyone who has been reading these fics - I know this corner of the fandom is very tiny but I’m thoroughly enjoying my current Crow(/Saint/Osiris) fixation and I’m really grateful for everyone’s who’s in this pit with me

“Finally!” Saint says, delighted. “You have been hiding your new friend for too long.”

Crossing the hangar, Osiris glances back at the hooded Awoken following in his wake. “Oh. No,” he says, making a beeline for the boxes, “we’re working on decoding some Hive symbology — I’m only here because you took my food from the fridge this morning instead of your own. Again.”

Saint ignores him. “Hello, new Light!” he calls, leaving Osiris to locate his lunch as he holds out a hand in greeting. “I am Saint-14. Please excuse Osiris — he is very single-minded when he’s hungry.”

The one gold eye visible beneath his hood blinks up at him as the Awoken reaches out to shake his hand. “I’m Crow.”

A ghost appears at his shoulder, sporting a scratched red shell, and Crow’s lips curve in a smile as he says, “This is Glint. He, uh- He’s read a lot about you.”

“Mr Saint-14!” the ghost says, eye wide in awe. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

“A pleasure to meet you too, little one,” Saint says, beaming. He reaches out to boop one of the ghost’s points in an approximation of a handshake. “I am glad you agreed to come to the Tower. I did not like to think of Guardians working for the large bug man.”

“We’re very happy to be free,” Glint agrees, bouncing in the air. “The Tower is much nicer than the Shore was. We even get a real bed here!” He lowers his voice to a quieter (but no less excitable) whisper as he confides, “It’s so soft!”

Saint’s lights flicker. “You did not have a bed?”

“Did you eat half of this?” Osiris grumbles before Crow can respond, and Saint looks back to see him scowling into a brown paper bag. “You don’t even like my salads.”

“It had the nice cheese on it,” Saint says in self-defense. “But you can always have my food. I think there is some of that spiced cake you like in one of today’s shipments.”

Osiris lets out a little harrumph of disapproval but, as expected, returns to the boxes in search of the promised cake.

Saint turns back to Crow. “I am glad we finally get to meet, even if it is just because he is hungry. Osiris has told me lots about you.”

Glint’s light dims as Crow drops his gaze to the ground, embarrassed. “I’m working on improving. Or trying to, at least.”

Saint frowns. “Improving?”

Crow gives an awkward shrug. “I know Osiris and the Vanguard weren’t pleased with my work on the cryptoliths but I’m getting better. Maybe with the Tower’s resources now, I-”

“Your work on the cryptoliths was good,” Osiris calls, still distracted by the cake hunt. “There are still areas for improvement but you’re a fast study. I wouldn’t waste my time on you if you weren’t.” 

Crow’s head snaps up. From the way he blinks in astonishment, Saint suspects that’s the first time Osiris has ever complimented him. 

“He is not good at showing appreciation sometimes,” Saint says helpfully. “We must make allowances for him. He told me he was impressed with how you handled the— what was it, the Large Celebrity?”

“High Celebrant,” Osiris corrects. “Large Celebrity is you.”

Saint laughs. “Such flattery.” He turns back to Crow, still smiling behind his helmet. “You see? He told me only good things about you, I promise.”

Crow shakes his head, looking between the two of them in confusion. “You don’t need to spare my feelings. Spider intercepted the mission reports to the Vanguard — I was ineffectual, not worth the Vanguard’s time.”

Saint’s about to wave it away as nonsense but freezes at the little sigh from behind him. “Ah.”

He turns, hands on his hips. “You wrote that?”

Even beneath his scarf, Osiris looks guilty. “I don’t remember my exact phrasing…”

“You said he was helpful!” Saint says, outraged on Crow’s behalf. “Why would you tell him he wasn’t?”

“I didn’t tell _him_ ,” Osiris counters. “It was in a message to the Vanguard — I didn’t want Zavala asking any more questions about him so I may have… played down Crow’s accomplishments.”

Saint eyes him skeptically. “You did not know the Spider would read it?”

“Of course I did,” Osiris says, affronted. “But it was important that he believed we had no interest in Crow either, beyond another pair of hands for the hunts.” He hesitates and won’t look in Crow’s direction when he admits, “Although I hadn’t factored in Spider passing the information along. I wasn’t aware he let him read intercepted communications.”

“He didn’t,” Crow says quietly. “He just read that one to me.”

The reasoning is clear enough and Saint can’t help the noise of frustration that escapes him. He doesn’t know who he’s more annoyed at: the Spider for his cruelty or Osiris for not seeing this very predictable outcome, despite all his intelligence.

Crow takes a step back at the sound, tensing in what Saint can only assume is the expectation of a blow, and he holds his hands up as he calms. “Do not worry, friend, I am not angry with you.” He folds his arms as he looks over to Osiris. “You, on the other hand…”

The lack of argument is a sure sign of guilt, and Saint sighs as he steps over to rest a hand on Osiris’ shoulder. 

“We will talk about this later, yes?” he says, keeping his voice low enough that Crow can’t hear. “It seems like there is more about your new friend that you haven’t told me.”

“Fine,” Osiris says with a sigh. 

Taking pity, Saint retrieves two wrapped chunks of cake from a box and holds one out to Osiris. “Here. So you stop giving me that wounded look.”

“I do not look wounded,” Osiris grouses but takes the cake anyway, along with his half-eaten salad. 

Saint moves to Crow before Osiris can lead him away and presses the second (bigger) chunk into his hands too. “For you. As an apology.”

Crow blinks up at him. “I don’t-”

“Come by tomorrow,” Saint says firmly. “Osiris and his symbology is boring. We will have fun.” He gestures to the pigeons who beat a hasty retreat as soon as Osiris appeared. “I will introduce you to the birds.”

“You don’t have to-” Osiris begins but Crow speaks up before he can finish. 

“Okay.” He looks up at Saint with a small smile, still clutching the cake. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Saint beams. “I am looking forward to it, little bird.”  


———

  
Crow does stop by at lunchtime the next day, and then again the following two days after that.

He’s too quiet still, listening intently as Saint extols the virtues of the birds and Osiris and this week’s Trials plans, but every time Saint manages to coax a smile or a joke out of him, it feels like a victory. Between Crow and his cheerful little ghost, it’s better company than Saint has had at work in a while — no offense to any of his birds — and so when Crow doesn’t make an appearance on the fourth day, Saint can’t help but be a little disappointed.

However, as he heads towards the Tower courtyard, it doesn’t take him long to find him.

From a distance, the gathering looks almost friendly, a cluster of Guardians chatting together as they look out over the city, but it’s only when Saint gets closer that he realises that the warlock and titan have Crow boxed in against the railing. They’re not touching him, not really, but they also aren’t leaving him any room to move away.

The titan, the taller of the two, raises his hand and Crow flinches back so sharply that for a moment Saint’s afraid he’s going to topple back over the edge. The titan’s blow is aimed at the parcel in his hand rather than his face however, and Saint hears the warlock laugh as Crow’s meager lunch is sent tumbling down to the street below.

He sees Crow lower his head, clearly trying to make himself smaller, as the warlock taunts, “You weren’t gonna eat that, were you?”

Crow doesn’t answer, doesn’t even look up at her, and Saint just gets close enough to catch the titan’s murmur, “Fuck, it’d be so easy. One little fuckin’ push.”

“You heard Zavala,” the warlock warns. “I’m not getting stuck on Tower patrol for a month because of this piece of shit. No matter how satisfying it might be.” She tilts her head. “Do you think he’d scream?”

The titan shrugs. “Wouldn’t be the first time someone shoved him off the Tower.” He clicks his fingers in front of Crow’s face as he asks, “Hey, traitor, did you scream last time? I’m sad I missed it.”

“Hey!”

All three of them jump at Saint’s shout. He draws himself up to his full height to loom over Crow’s assailants as he approaches. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing,” the warlock says with a tight smile. “Just welcoming a new Guardian to the Tower.”

Crow doesn’t quite manage to hide his recoil when she rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes.

They back off when Saint takes a step forward, skittering away from Crow like frightened rats, but he keeps his voice calm as he says, “If you or any of your friends decide to ‘welcome’ anybody like that again, you will be the ones thrown off the Tower. You understand?” His tone darkens to a threat. “I am very good at throwing.”

Their swift retreat is enough of an answer and Saint lets out a sigh of frustration as they disappear back into the courtyard. “I do not like cowards.”

“Fighting back only makes it worse,” Crow says quietly. “I know it’s not what Guardians are supposed to do but-”

“No, no,” Saint interrupts, moving in to check him over, “I did not mean you. They are the cowardly ones. There are plenty of enemies out there to fight but they come here to attack allies. It is pathetic.”

Crow smiles slightly, straightening up and moving away from the edge. There’s a cut high on his cheek, just visible beneath the hood, but Saint has no idea whether it’s from the two who just left or from some other Guardians who decided to work out their anger on an innocent person. 

“I don’t think this technically counted as an attack but thank you,” Crow says with a nod of gratitude, “for stepping in like that. You didn’t need to.”

“Of course I needed to,” Saint says. “I am just sorry I didn’t get here in time to rescue your lunch.”

Crow shrugs as he glances at the City below. “Better it than me. I wasn’t that hungry anyway.”

Saint frowns. “You must eat. Lunch is the most important meal of the day!”

“Yesterday you said it was breakfast.”

“Both are equally important,” Saint allows. “Come, we will go down into the City for food. There is a nice place nearby — I will introduce you to the owner and her large cat.”

“It’s fine,” Crow says, shaking his head. “Really.”

“Psht.” Waving away his complaints, Saint rests a hand on his shoulder and begins to lead him back towards the elevator. “It is my treat. Besides, Osiris has wrangled a new stipend from Ikora — I think it is for research but we will use a tiny bit of it for food.”

From the noise Crow makes, that isn’t as reassuring as Saint hoped it would be, but he falls into step alongside him as they ride down to the streets below. 

“I- I should pick up a helmet,” Crow says as they get closer to the ground floor. “Civilians might have fewer guns than Guardians but I’m not exactly popular here either.”

“I am very popular,” Saint says and chuckles at the look he gets from Crow. “What? It is fact, not ego.” He shrugs. “Not _just_ ego, at least. I will protect you.”

The elevator comes to a stop and Crow tugs his hood further down over his face as they step out past security into the bustling streets. The whispers start almost instantly, citizens murmuring to each other as they pass, and they don’t even make it to the first intersection before a man collides with Crow, knocking his shoulder hard enough against Crow’s to make him stumble. 

“So much trash lying around these days,” the man mutters, and it’s only Crow’s steady movement forward which keeps Saint from stopping to rebuke him.

Still, Saint bristles and he grumbles under his breath as he keeps walking, “That was rude.”

“I can live with rude,” Crow murmurs but he keeps his head lowered as the crowd thickens.

The whispers and sneers don’t ease up, with citizens even spitting on the ground as they walk past. Saint’s sensors catch most of the comments but from the way Crow seems to be trying to disappear, he knows he’s not seeing everything.

It’s unacceptable.

Crow jumps when Saint slings an arm around his shoulders and he peeks up at him from beneath his hood. “Saint-”

“You are uncomfortable?” Saint asks, hesitating. “I will not touch, if you prefer.”

“No, I-” Crow glances nervously around them, still attempting to vanish beneath his cloak. “People love you. You shouldn’t jeopardise that by being seen with me.”

Saint scowls. “Nonsense. We are friends, yes?” He doesn’t wait for Crow to answer as he presses on. “It is normal to get food together.”

Crow just nods mutely, tucked against Saint’s body as they wind their way forward. 

The burrito place is in a back alley, the lunchtime rush in full swing, and while Saint manages a quick greetings to the owner, he opts not to distract her for long and instead collects two large wraps before locating somewhere to sit.

Crow hangs back as Saint tugs his helmet off and drops to a seat. “I think this table may have already been claimed.”

Saint looks around, expecting to see more Guardians trying to push Crow around but laughs when Crow just gestures to the large ginger cat who is sprawled across the tabletop. 

“Ah. No, this is Pinto. He is very spoiled but he does not mind sharing.” He waves between Crow and the cat. “Pinto, this is Crow. He is a new Guardian. Be nice to him.”

Pinto lets out a grumpy mrow but returns to basking in the sunlight as Crow perches on the chair opposite Saint. It’s only when Crow picks up his burrito, which is approximately the size of his head, that Saint realises he may have overestimated the portion size.

“Pinto will help you eat it if it is too much,” he advises. “Or even if it is not too much. He is very wily — you should watch him.”

Crow takes a tentative bite, watching the cat with suspicion, and Saint laughs at the surprised noise he makes in response. “It is good, no?”

Crow nods eagerly, looking down at the burrito with near-reverence. “Very.” He pokes at it, inspecting. “What is this?”

“It is delicious witchcraft,” Saint says seriously but laughs when Crow’s eyes go wide. “I am joking, little bird. It is Paula’s secret recipe — I have tried to coax it out of her but with no luck, so we just enjoy it.”

He pauses, thinking of the plain sandwiches Crow has eaten for lunch every day this week. “Tell me of the food you like. What do you cook?”

“I cooked prey while on assignment,” Crow says, digging back into his food. “Spider had me cook for him sometimes but Awoken and Eliksni tastes, uh, _differ_ , so I wasn’t asked to do it often.”

Saint concentrates on chomping through his burrito to calm his indignation at a Guardian serving food to a crimelord. “Hmm.”

“But I like this,” Crow ventures. “I haven’t had anything like this before.” He gives Saint a small smile. “The stews on the Shore grow tiring after a while, especially when you aren’t sure where the meat comes from.” 

He pauses, his expression fading into a frown. “Is everything okay?”

From the concern on Crow’s face, Saint isn’t doing a very good job at hiding his outrage. He’s learned over the last few days how much Crow dislikes angry outbursts, even when they’re not directed at him, and so he forces himself to be calm, reaching out to stroke Pinto’s belly as he says, “This Shore does not seem like a good place for a Guardian. So much terrible food.”

“I wasn’t a Guardian at the time,” Crow points out, licking sauce off his thumb. “But it wasn’t all bad. Osiris made me noodles once.”

There’s a dazed tone to his voice, like he’s relaying some kind of faint dream, and Saint despairs quietly at the fact that Osiris being nice for once would have that effect.

“He told me.” On the table, Pinto butts his head against Saint’s arm and he provides the requested pets as he says, “I apologise for his cooking.”

“It was good,” Crow insists. “Really good.” His eyes light up. “Oh, I had some cookies last Dawning too! The Guardian brought me a set for some reason, and Osiris gave me some of your leftovers.” He smiles, happier than Saint has ever seen him so far. “Thank you.”

“That was Osiris being Osiris,” Saint says, scowling a little. “They were a gift. Not leftovers.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” Crow reassures him. “I’ve lived off Spider’s leftovers before — the cookies were a big improvement.” 

Saint squeezes his burrito a little harder than necessary as helpless anger courses through him. A chunk of chicken falls from the end, which Pinto promptly claims as his own. 

Still transfixed with his own food, Crow continues happily, “Your purple ones were excellent. We only had a couple but Glint said there are always some at the Tower during the Dawning. Maybe we’ll be here to see it this year?”

Collecting himself, Saint frowns. “Only a couple? Did Osiris eat them all?” He huffs. “I will have words.”

That draws a laugh from Crow and he holds his hand up to pacify him. “No, Spider confiscated them when we got back, that’s all. Osiris was very generous. I’m grateful.”

“Wait, he confiscated them?” Saint repeats, aghast.

Crow pales, apparently realising what he’s said. “He- I didn’t-”

The stammering is not a good sign and Saint slumps back in his chair with a sigh, redirecting his anger to a clear target. “I do not like this Spider,” he complains. “Who steals cookies? He is a monster.”

“That seems to be the consensus,” Crow says, calming enough to offer a wry smirk. “Anything in his lair was his property. That included gifts of cookies.”

“And you?” Saint asks gently. “You were property to him too, yes?”

“That was how the Guardian got me out.” He seems far less concerned by this than Saint thinks he should be. “What can I say, I can live with being loot if it means freedom.”

“The Guardian does not think that of you!”

“I know,” Crow promises. “It’s just taking me some time to adjust, that’s all.” He looks up at Saint with a smile. “The food is definitely helping though.”

The injustice of it sits like a hot coal in Saint’s chest. He doesn’t _want_ Crow to be like this, so accustomed to cruelty and so easily delighted by a simple lunch, but even if he were to fly to the Shore now and drive his helmet through the Spider’s horrible face, that would do nothing to fix it.

And so, an alternative:

“I have made a decision,” he says, sitting up straighter. “No more of your sandwiches for lunch. They make me sad.”

Pinto gnaws idly on one of Saint’s fingers as Crow blinks. 

“My sandwiches make you sad,” Crow repeats, as though Saint is malfunctioning.

“Yes,” he says, unabashed. “You will come for lunch with me instead, or if you are busy, I will bring lunch to you. There are so many good parts to this City — it is important you experience some of them.”

He cannot erase what has happened but if simple things make Crow happy, Saint will give him all of the simple things he can.

Crow shakes his head. “You don’t need to-”

“I want to,” Saint says. “Besides, Osiris is always too busy, even for lunch. I need good company.”

“You need better company than me,” Crow says. “Someone who won’t cause people to spit in your food would be a start.”

Saint can’t keep his lights from flaring. “People spit in your food?”

Crow just looks at him. 

Saint takes a breath and reaches for calming thoughts.

“No-one will spit in anyone’s food,” he says. It’s slightly closer to threatening than he’d like but Crow doesn’t seem fazed. “We will have fun, I promise.” 

At Crow’s hesitation, he pushes, careful, “It does not have to be forever. Just try for a few days? We can eat in the Tower if you are more comfortable there.” Beside him, Pinto stretches, testing his claws against Crow’s gauntlet, and Saint smiles. “Although I think you may have made a new friend now.”

He doubts Crow knows that he’s smiling as he reaches out to give Pinto’s chin a tentative scritch but Saint blinks in surprise when Crow yields. “All right.”

“Excellent!” More chicken falls from his burrito, and Pinto accepts the tribute with glee as Saint leans in, excited. “Tomorrow we will try pizza. Osiris prefers calzones but he is incorrect and we should ignore him. And then there is a nice noodle place, very spicy.”

He continues, mapping out the culinary adventures ahead as they eat. He expects to lose Crow’s attention fairly early in his plans — even his birds don’t often stick around when he gets onto the topic of food — but Crow doesn’t complain, just listens, rapt and content, as the City hums around them. 

Even before his lifetimes in the Infinite Forest, the City has always been a beacon. He knows Osiris doesn’t feel the same, too distanced by the politics and hardened by his exile, but Saint’s heart soars at the thought of introducing its light to someone who’s spent so long in darkness.

He can’t wait to get started.


End file.
